


Willful Ignorance

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Appendicitis, Caring John, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:44:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While John is away on a medical trip, horrible stomach pains start tormenting Sherlock just as a particularly interesting case comes about. Stubborn and frustrated, Sherlock tries to will the sickness away. He manages for several days, until John comes home and has to cope with the horrible consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Long Way Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is an appendicitis fic, and isn't centered around any romantic relationship, although my OTP is Johnlock :).

_"I'll be leaving for Cardiff now," John said, gripping his one black suitcase and moving towards the door._

_Sherlock can see him going in his peripheral vision, favorite sweater on, gripping a mug of tea he'll no doubt give to Mrs. Hudson on the way down. Sherlock's phands are steepled to his lips at the moment, bored out of his mind, only pretending to think of logical things while he's really thinking of how Mrs. Hudson will put up with him while John, his admittedly better half, is gone._

_Because that's what John is now to Sherlock, his better half, his conscience, his heart. But Sherlock doesn't acknowledge his leaving either way because that's what he does and that's what John puts up with._

 

A normal Monday morning would see Sherlock bemoaning the lack of milk in the fridge, John complaining of the body parts inside the fridge, and Mrs. Hudson stopping in to fuss over the "mess they've made," 

Had there been a good case on, Sherlock would be out the door at whichever hour suited him, John in loyal tow, with a rushed goodbye shouted by down the stairs. The dark times between cases would see Sherlock sitting bored in his bathrobes, his sheets, (or less on one occasion) and John in his cushy chair, blogging about their most previous adventure, a cup of tea permanently within reach. 

Today was not a normal Monday morning.

Today was a particularly _bad_ Monday morning.

Sherlock woke up in his bed to a dull ache in his abdomen, a dull ache that quickly progressed to a sharp pain the second he rolled over and tried to sit up. He fell back with a groan, more of annoyance than pain, and then closed is eyes, breathing in. _Mind Palace,_ he thought. Nothing so trivial as pain can distract me here. 

That sentiment proved to hold for the next few hours (after swallowing a few pain pills as well), enough time for Sherlock to get himself over to Lestrade's office and accept a case on a string of murders that seemed to be committed by a vampire in Sussex. Walking out of the office, Sherlock swept his passive gaze over the multitude of workers milling around Scotland Yard before turning the corner in a swift movement and throwing up in the men's bathroom.

 _Thank their ridiculous work ethic,_ Sherlock thinks wildly, pulling himself up from the stall floor and cleaning up in the empty bathroom. He's out the door and in a cab before the next person can enter the bathroom.

The stomach pains worsen as the ride progresses, going from an ache to the unbearable stab once more. In a moment of weakness Sherlock almost asks the cabbie to turn around and head for St. Bart's hospital because with the pain he's also starting to feel fuzzy in the head, which is never a good sign, and is affecting his ability to _think_. Instead he keeps quiet, throws bills at the cabbie and mumbles a quick "keep the change" before stumbling onto the sidewalk and barely making it into 221B's bathroom.

After the unpleasant business is done and he's swallowed a few more pills Sherlock falls into his bed, completely wasted.

 

*******************

 

Sherlock wakes in the middle of the night, to be expected, with a raging fever and an urge to throw up his decidedly empty guts. The crackers John had left on the counter are sitting in his line of sight when he finally stumbles into the living room and they cause such a powerful wave of nausea to rise he has to go right back into the bathroom.

Lying on the couch in his blue bathrobe he tries and fails to get up again, at last just forcing himself to think on the case in his compromised position. _Probably a criminal from the gothic crowd,_ his mind thinks through the fevered haze. _Obvious steel implanted fangs, residue left in wounds, smudges of dark makeup..._

That's as far as he can get before the world starts to get fuzzy, the blank ceiling twirling into the wallpaper by his side...

 

********************

 

When Sherlock comes to the pain is almost completely gone. He stumbles into the bathroom to take a shower, feeling almost like himself again. He's out the door and in Lestrade's office before Mrs. Hudson is even up.

The case turned out to be a bit less interesting than he had hoped. Teenage gothic, as he had thought, hunting down the string of lovers his ex-girlfriend had left behind in a particularly gruesome fashion. As much as he wanted to deny it to his mind Sherlock could feel the absence of John beside his as he walked away from the blaring lights of the crime scene and towards the main road. It's as he steps into the cab that his abdomen gives a little pained twinge.

By the time he can heave himself up the stairs and into 221B the pain and nausea is back, two times worse. The contents of his stomach (which were now perpetually empty) rebelled inside him, and he vomited right on the kitchen floor, hands braced against the table, clawing over the base of his microscope and knocking over beakers. The glass shattered around him, the sound like knives in his fevered head. 

Something was seriously wrong with him, Sherlock knew, and he almost regretted not going to the hospital except that would be _giving in._ Either way, as Sherlock sinks down onto the cold tiles and the glass cuts into his palms, his only thought is that he hopes John will be home soon, because there's no way he'll get off this floor without help.

 

*********************

 

The medical meeting had been absolutely dreary (Sherlock would have shot everyone in the room under five minutes out of boredom) and John was exhausted as he stumbled into the flat. He set his suitcase down with a sign and walked into the living room, expecting to see Sherlock plucking at his violin or sprawled out across the couch. 

Instead, he's treated with the pungent scent of throw up, making him gag. The tiredness seems to drop out of John, as he realizes that something is _very wrong_. Cautiously he steps forward, wood beams creaking under his shoes. His heart seems to drop when he catches sight of shiny black dress shoes attached to black suit pants lying across the doorway of the kitchen. A couple more steps and he can see his best friends lying in a mess of blood, glass, vomit and black curls, deathly still.


	2. Taking Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite short, sorry.
> 
> Music: Soul Meets Body ~ Death Cab For Cutie

The next few hours pass in a horrifying, anxious blur or doctors and plastic chairs and signed documents but somehow John gets here, an unconscious, antibiotic filled Sherlock on the bed, his left hand gripped by both of John’s who sit on the a chair he pulled over.

It had been appendicitis. John had left for _a day_ and Sherlock had managed to almost _die_.

“Stubborn idiot,” John mutters, head on the sheets because he’s so _tired_ and then he’s fallen asleep.

 

****************

 

When John awakes he’s more than a little disoriented, the white room glaring and absolutely clockless, and something is tugging on his hands.

It’s Sherlock, looking a little disgruntled at having his hand trapped between John’s. He lets go in embarrassment, staring at those clear eyes because he can still recall the complete and utter terror he had felt at the possibility of losing him.

John’s not as angry as Sherlock had expected him to be. The meeting had obviously been horribly boring, but relief was the most prominent emotion on his face now.

“John, I—”

“Am an idiot.” John finishes, quirking his eyebrow like he’s daring Sherlock to argue.

Instead Sherlock just leans back against the pillows, sighing and looking grumpy again. “I will admit that my judgement had been slightly flawed but,”

“But you just almost died.” 

Sherlock lets out a frustrated huff and if possible sinks even deeper into his cushions. “ _So?_ I didn’t die. I am alive. It’s over and done with.”

“Yes it is.” John agrees, _finally_ and he can see things starting to get better after the horror story of the last twenty four hours.

 

***************

For days after Sherlock is released from the hospital John is by his side twenty four seven, watching him and caring for him like he’ll drop dead at any moment. 

Two weeks after the whole episode at a crime scene Sherlock trips on a particularly large crack in the sidewalk and John catches him and then starts fretting like Mrs. Hudson would which leads to an argument about Sherlock’s ability to take care of himself which ends with Sherlock going out to get the milk as some higher form of an apology.

Two months out and John comes down with the flu, and a vengeful Sherlock makes John stay in bed and brings him medicine and tea and lectures him on taking care of himself.

“Sherlock, it’s not my—*cough*—my _fault_ that I got sick that’s not—”

“John, you must rest. Really, stop being so stubborn about it. Let me take care of you.”

The words were meant to be mocking, but somehow Sherlock delivers them differently, and it makes John blush and promptly fall asleep. 

_Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :D  
> One more chapter...
> 
>  
> 
> See that cute little heart button down there?  
> Press it! It's fun! It makes me happy :)


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